~ A submissive's journey

I met Him at the hotel. We sat outside and had something to eat, some wine, and talked. He asked me how I felt about collaring and we talked for some time about the subject.

We went upstairs, and He stopped outside the room, turned around and told me to kneel in the hallway while He went inside. He came back out and pressed my head against His crotch. He told me to go inside, see what was there for me on the counter, strip naked and kneel on the floor facing the window, text Him when I was ready, and then He walked away.

I went inside and there on the counter was a bouquet of flowers, a card, and a couple small boxes of chocolate. I opened the card and smiled at what He had written. Placing the card back on the counter, I stripped, knelt in middle of the room, sent Him the text, and waited.

A few moments later, He texted me back:

“Turn on some relaxing music….Is that task completed?”

“Yes, Sir. It just started playing.”

“1.) Draw a bath.
2.) Light the candles with the matches I left for you.”
3.) Drop the bath bomb in the tub (contained in the colored paper).
4.) Get in.
5.) You have 20 min to relax and reflect.”

I sat in the hot water and breathed in the steam, surrounded by candlelight and the strains of Lindsey Stirling’s violin, thinking over the conversation we had just had. The bath ball He had left for me made me skin super soft to the touch, and had turned the water a reddish shade of purple. When He came in, He took some pictures of me there in the water and then told me to dry off and follow Him.

He sat on the couch and I knelt before Him. He talked to me while He stroked my hair, and then… He picked up a box that was beside Him, opened it…and collared me. I was elated, intoxicated by the feeling, completely thrilled and totally honored. It was absolutely beautiful, gold and red and sparkly. It was the set Butterfly and I had seen in Vegas. It was simply stunning.

He stood, unzipped His pants, pulled them down, and told me to suck His cock. Then He began giving me direction, telling me exactly how He wanted it done. This, He said, is what I was to do when He told me to worship His cock. Exactly this, in the order He had directed me.

Soon after, we began to get ready for the party. He took some photos of me in my beautiful collar, and then we headed out. At the party, we circulated a while, talked with some newly met people, procured a gorgeous red suede flogger for me, and then scouted for a place to do a suspension.

Sir tied me the way He had the last time, and spun me once my feet left the ground. It felt like only minutes had passed when the chest harness began to restrict my breathing. I fought it as long as I was able, shifting my weight, redistributing where I could, to take the weight off my chest, before finally asking to be brought down. As always, time with Sir is a time warp. Suspended, as I had been, which caused what was approximately 45 minutes in the air to feel like five.

After that, He told me to bend over the nearby table and started inserting the tunnel plug He had told me to buy into my ass. That piece of silicone proved to be a little more difficult than surmised, but He got it in. Only, when He went and sat on the couch and told me to come to Him, it didn’t want to stay put…and came out.

Instead, I was bent back over the table, and He broke out the fuck saw. That was a new experience, Him using it on me from behind like that. It felt amazing. Then He had me lie on my back and resumed.

Apparently it had gotten late, and we were one of the few people still left around. We gathered our things and headed toward the door. A couple people told us that they had very much enjoyed watching us play… I don’t remember people coming in and out of there. Amazing how focused one can be.

Back to the hotel and our ritual of tequila for us and a cigar for Him. Talking outside and enjoying the night air. Then up to the room for the night.

Out came the ropes again and we laughed as He experimented with different ways to tie me to the bed in the position He wanted. Darn hotel beds without tie points! After He was satisfied with the binding, the vibrator was on my clit, a glass dildo in my ass, and He entered me. As always, it was intense and later, as I crawled up beside Him to go to sleep He asked me if I was a happy girl. I sighed contentedly, smiled, and said “Yes, Sir.”

Dimly lit hotel room. Low hum of the air conditioning unit in the background. Innocent luggage cart placed centrally near the window, completely unaware that it is about to be corrupted, it’s virginity taken from it with lengths of beautifully red rope and Sir’s hands.

He instructed me to dry off completely, then to stand waiting. Naked, nipples stiff and goosebumps on my skin, breathlessly anticipating that first touch, I waited, watching Him take one roll after another from the bag and lay it on the bed.

A few steps and He was behind me, draping the rope around my chest, pulling it, knotting it. I held my breath as it raked over my skin, that familiar glide making my eyes close and everything inside me go still. Now and then I would open them and look down, watching the harness coming into being. This one was different than any He’d done on me before.

When He got it just like He wanted it, He moved me closer to the cart and started on the rest. I was anxious, excited, aroused… Amazing what the thought of being suspended does to your body. Knowing it was coming. Hoping and willing your body to be strong enough so that you can stay up longer than the last time. First He attached the chest harness to the ring so we could test it. I can’t begin to explain how incredibly happy I was when I realized that it didn’t hurt…at all. No shortness of breath, no extreme pain under the arms or on the collar bone. He had done it. He’d found the perfect tie for me. I was elated.

He bound and tied off the thighs, and then tied me up like a marionette, right wrist tied to right ankle, left the same, each rope going through the ring, in such a way that when I pulled my hands downward my legs would raise. When I’d push my legs out straight, my arms would go up over my head. Another new twist…there was a knot right in the middle of my palm, something to hang onto. I adore that knot!

For a short time, we were laughing and checking everything out, and then, it changed. He was behind me, between my knees. He touched me, then the vibrator touched me, then the saw touched me, and I saw stars. Suspended, shaking, writhing, moaning, hands clenching and unclenching, then grasping again and again over the knots in my palms.

I lost track of time. I do remember needing a short break… Not because the binding was hurting, but because I had become too limp to keep my core tight and combined with being seriously out of breath, I just needed a moment to right my equilibrium. He helped bring me down and asked me if I wanted to be released, or just needing a break. Just a break, I replied breathlessly, and laughed. I wanted to go back up!

Sometime later, He released me, all except for the chest harness. Time for our after routine, cigars, tequila (or wine), and talking. We slipped outside and sat together in the dark, sharing a drink as He smoked. I was freezing, shivering not just from the cold, but from the after effects as well, and chivalrously He removed His light jacket and handed it to me.

When He was done with His cigar and the wine was all gone, we headed back up. We laid on the bed, side by side, and He let me kiss his body the way I love to do. That is one of my favorite things, when He just lays back and allows me that time to touch, kiss, smell, taste and hear Him…

He sat up briefly and moved, repositioning himself to lean against the headboard. Then the shift happened. You know the shift I’m talking about. It’s when the energy changes, when the spring is pulled back and released, when you go from lovingly licking and kissing His cock to being gagged on it, when the hand in your hair goes from caressing to tightly gripping and pulling, when the muscles in His body go from relaxed to taut, and the mmmmm sound is replaced by a strong and clear order.

With tears streaming down my face (damn gag reflex!), I choked on Him like He wanted, and suddenly, He moved. He moved out from under me and told me not to. On my knees, I felt him touch me from behind, and then something cold and unrelenting pressed against my ass. I knew that feeling as it slid into me and curved up over my lower spine. The hook had been inserted and tied tightly to the harness I still wore. I don’t believe He tied my hair into that time because I could still lower my head, but doing so pulled hard on the hook, so I couldn’t bow my head without putting a lot of tension on it.

Whatever He had done, He had effectively limited the range of motion of my head, which became a very apparent obstacle for me to overcome when He climbed back up to the headboard, spread His legs and said “Continue”. The more I lowered my head to lick or suck as He directed, the more the hook yanked on my ass, the more I had to arch my back to relieve some of the pressure, and the more aroused I became. When He told me to ride Him, it was a wonderfully welcome order, and after a few moments of struggling to move into place because of how I’d been rigged, I sank blissfully onto his cock and had the first of several orgasms.

Rocking back and forth, his cock inside me and the hook in my ass competed for attention. It threw me off, not able to focus on one or the other but for brief seconds at a time, until I reached a point where it was all just one massive sensation that was intoxicating and overwhelming.

Sometime later we must have drifted off to sleep because my next memory is of the alarm going off the next morning.

He told me to wear a black dress. Wear the dress and bring panties, but don’t wear them. I replied with the standard “Yes, Sir” and started gathering my things together for the evening. I had no idea where we would be going, but that was standard too. Everything unfolds as He wishes, and it’s always a surprise for me.

I got to the hotel and His truck was parked in the drive, but He wasn’t in the lobby. I waited there for Him there, dressed in a low cut, tight black dress, heels, makeup done, wondering what we were going to be doing. When He came out of the elevator pushing an empty luggage cart, I couldn’t help but smile at seeing Him. He walked past me, put it back in its place and said “Let’s go”. And then we got in the truck, He leaned over and kissed me, and I literally felt like swooning. The cologne He wears is intoxicating, and combined with the taste of His lips, makes for a dangerous combination.

We talked as He drove, getting caught up on what had been going on lately. He’d been very swamped with some business for work, so we hadn’t had much chance to just talk. It was refreshing to be past the stress of the recent weeks. I told Him about going to the rope bomb and our friend visiting, and the trip to the toy store. I had purchased a new one to play with. He asked if I’d gotten the anal plug I’d wanted and I hadn’t. When He asked why, I told Him that it was because I was a bit overwhelmed at the selection, and truthfully, because I was hoping that He would pick one out for me. At that moment, I had no idea how that topic would come into play soon after.

During the conversation He asked when was the last time I had masturbated, so I told Him. And the time before that? And before that? Somehow that led to me telling Him about being frustrated, though that’s not the right word for it. It’s not a sexual frustration I’d been having. I think I can explain it here easier. Sometimes when I try to put something into words when I’m near Him, it just ends up coming out all garbled. It’s not my fault though, He just has a pretty powerful effect on me.

So, not frustration. More accurately, a craving. Craving His dominance. Little things, the things He asks me to do for Him, the tone in His voice, the feel of my hair in His grip, His hands on my throat, that look in His eyes when He takes whatever He wants, and that high I get when He does any and all of it. Lately I’d been feeling like a drug addict jonesing for their next fix. When He’d texted the night before and asked if I was available to have a session, I couldn’t answer Yes fast enough. I didn’t just want to, I was craving it.

He took me a very nice restaurant for dinner, and it was lovely. We sat on the patio and talked some more. It was an excellent meal, and when we were through, He said “Give me your hands.” I stretched my hands out to Him across the table as He reached into His pocket and withdrew something. Opening my hands, He placed an anal plug into one, and then a small vial of lube in the other, and closed my fingers over them. I know I had to have been blushing because I felt my cheeks go hot.

“Go…”, He said.
“Now?” I asked.
“Now.” He smiled and I laughed, then off I went to the restroom to complete the task.

I learned a couple things I hadn’t known before since I’d never used one while attempting to walk around at the same time. One, the base of those things definitely take some getting used to. Two, there is NO way to NOT be aware of it with every single step, especially when it has slightly sharp edges. And three, despite how (ahem) skilled your nether region’s muscles are, it WILL attempt to slip out because the very same lube that eases it’s entry has the exact same effect in reverse.

Back into the truck and driving again. This time, as we drove further and further into the city, I was even more curious than usual. I truly had no idea where he was taking me, not at all. When He pulled into the XXX video place, my mind was racing. I’d driven by this huge place a million times, but never been in it. Turns out, it’s got a toy shop inside. We had fun looking over the selection and even found something for Butterfly!

When we got back to the hotel, He told me to change into my swimsuit. We were going to get in the hot tub and relax for a while, He said. Then He grabbed me and kissed me in the elevator in that way that makes my toes curl. Hot, steamy water, dark shadows, a covered chair to partially hide behind, our skin gliding, slipping, His hands on my body, mine in His hair….yeah, relaxing wound up being the furthest thing from what we actually ended up doing.

First, He pulled my top up over my breasts and let it float there on top of the water. Then He put me on the opposite side, pulled my legs up and told me to masturbate for Him. Of course, that’s when the hotel’s front entrance becomes a gathering place for some of it’s occupants. Though the hot tub area is somewhat dark, and a bit back from the fence, which is just slightly further back from that entrance, we were definitely within view HAD someone decided to look our way. So, Sir moves me to the other side so my back would be toward them, but the order remains, and so I begin, awkwardly at first. I always find it awkward, not really sure why. But at some point, His body was on mine, His lips on mine, and my hand between us was not awkward, it was being pushed against me in just the right way by the pressure of Him. When He brought His hand up and slapped me, told me to cum for Him, to let go, my body didn’t hesitate, it just did what it was told.

He switched our places and sat me astride Him, pulling aside the bottom of my swimsuit and entered me. The anal plug had remained, so I was doubly full, and as my breathing sped up and gasps escaped my lips, I wondered here and there if the group of guys standing outside could hear me. It’s funny how you switch focus back and forth when you’re doing something like that, knowing that you could get caught any second. One moment, I was glancing over their way to see if we’d been spotted, and the next, He would push up into me, my eyes would close, and there was nothing in existence but that feeling.

When He moved me again we were facing toward them, this time He took me from behind, my hands gripping the sides of the hot tub, head barely above water, trying to stay somewhat below the ridge and out of the line of sight, but without going completely under water, I could still see them. It added an incredible eroticism to it, watching people doing something so normal, standing there taking amongst their friends, while He was doing what He was doing to me, knowing it would only take one of them to accidentally catch a glimpse of movement, wonder what it was, and train their eyes upon us, but none of them did. At least, they didn’t give it away if they did.

He sat back against the step and I was stroking Him, first with my hand, and then with my mouth. He was trying to keep my head low, and that resulted in my face being partially underwater. With Him thrusting upward, the water begin to splash, and I managed to plug my nose and still continue until He came, filling my mouth with a combination of chlorinated water and His cum.

I laid my head against His chest and He held me close to Him for awhile as we relaxed. It was time to go up.

Sir picked me up just before six pm last night and we headed out to a local SAADE class on caning. I won’t lie, just the thought had me fidgeting and uncomfortable, but I endured. Took a good while for me to finally relax though. We met some a couple new people and the class was informative.

Afterward we headed out for a bite to eat. Yum, sushi. Then it was off to the hotel room. We used a cart to take everything to the room. He went to shower and freshen up and asked me to get the cart that was in the hallway and take it back down to the lobby, come back up, out the vibrator on the bed, then kneel, naked, facing the windows.

He pulled out all the lovely red rope, put me in a chest harness, then added gunslingers, and we tested out the ties around the chest using the luggage cart.

I got to spend some time sucking His cock after that. And playing with the vibrator. But my brain doesn’t do the two things simultaneously very well, trying to please Him and trying to orgasm at the same time. So, of course, sucking Him won.

He made me orgasm plenty after that though. First by bending me over the bed and taking me from behind, putting the vibrator between our bodies another time, then later adding some DP play. I can’t describe everything exactly because I have no idea what He was using, but it was awesome.

After that, He used that little metal wheel on me, and alternated it with the flogger, and that was seriously intense, I didn’t know whether to laugh or moan. I ended up doing some crazy mix of both.

Sometime before 5 am, I rode Him one last time and then we fell asleep. This morning He woke before me, went down for breakfast and brought some back for me, along with coffee. We had a nice quickie before getting up and heading out.

It was an amazing night, and the soreness I feel today is a lovely, lasting reminder.

It had been a rough week for me. Couple of weeks, actually. Not the usual ‘ran out of milk’ or ‘kids acting up’ kind of stuff, but the ‘one crappy thing after another’ kind of stuff that make you feel as though Murphy has taken a seriously personal interest in fucking up your world.

And then you can add in stress from work on top. Having to work practically straight through an entire month was not on my top ten list of things to do for Fall.

Having had little time together throughout the month, Sir decided that we would spend the weekend together. Butterfly was visiting friends, so we worked out my schedule around work, seeing the kids, and spending time with Him.

I went over Friday night after I’d gotten the youngest down. He asked me what I’d like to do for the night, go out, go swimming, stay in, whatever. I opted for stay in. I can’t thank Him enough for being understanding, it truly was a difficult time I was going through, and what I needed more than anything was just to be held. That’s what He did, He held me, and I alternated between crying it out and talking it out. He listened. That was the beginning of our weekend.

As for the steamier parts, it should be apparent by now (if you happen to follow my writing) that I tend to remember things in bunches. Snapshots, if you will. Still frames and video clips of the moments that stand out to me for whatever reason. So I’m going to write them as they come to me, stream of consciousness type thing.

He was going to show me something on the laptop, a video I think, but I had an overwhelming urge just to kiss Him. I asked if He could wait just a second, and that’s what I did. That kiss turned into another, and another, then a longer one, then stroking and touching… Hot, erotic, sensual, and….

Me spending a wonderfully unmeasured amount of time sucking His cock, and licking Him, and tasting Him, and even some light hearted banter, and a few giggles, some pictures taken…

Riding Him as He lay on His back on the floor for what seemed like hours, rhythmic grinding, slowly gripping, squeezing….

Bent forward over the arm of the couch, face pressed tightly against the fabric, His hand on my head, holding me in place, pounding, thrusting, pumping, hair gripped, twisted, in an iron fist, writhing…

Slippery gliding of rope against rope as He bound me for bed, positioned like a doll, just so, limbs lifted and turned as He put each in place, falling asleep next to Him, breathing in the calm like staring at the glass surface of a still pool, quiet…

Rushing off to work, tick tock, race against the traffic, time with the munchkins, cuddle, snuggle, off to bed, back to Sir’s place…

Vibrator buzzing loudly, powerfully, as I hovered over His face, the exquisite sensation of His mouth touching me combined with it, laying back on His body, head held up by His knees, masturbating for Him as He watched…

He cooked breakfast for us, pancakes, sausage, lazy Sunday morning, soaking up the last quiet hours, the world shut out a little longer…

Later, when I returned to it, that world seemed a bit less loud and a lot less stressful.

Saturday morning Sir picked me up and we headed out to the GRUE. On the way, we stopped and grabbed a Starbucks coffee. I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating…every time I get to spend one on one time with either Sir or Butterfly, I am always aware of, not just how special our relationships are and how precious that time is, but how amazing our entire dynamic is as a whole. This time was no exception. Butterfly had a prior engagement she was attending, so we were going to the GRUE on our own.

Speaking of Butterfly, I am going to go a little off track here, so bear with me. I always give her my thank you’s to her directly, not here (and I did on Sunday), but this time I have to publicly acknowledge the amazing woman she is in my writing, as well, because it was on my mind that day. It is a rare thing for me to have a true friendship with another female, and even though I tell her all the time, I am so incredibly blessed to have her in my life. She is an incredible person, much stronger and more beautiful than she may sometimes think she is, and every bit an inspiration to me, whether she knows it or not (but I hope she does). There was a very personal issue, that I won’t go into here, that I didn’t want to talk about before this weekend happened…but a true friend always knows when something is wrong. They can look into your eyes and see your soul is wounded, even when you are trying your best to present an unbroken image of yourself to the world. They always know. She had listened to me, without judgment, without fear, without insecurity. With love and kindness and friendship, she helped me to understand what I was feeling and why, and what I needed to do about it. She offered her opinion and her guidance, and did so with such grace and respect for all the parties involved, that I was blown away by it. But I digress…

Okay, now where I was I? Oh yes, we stopped and got Starbucks on our way there. It was fun, and as we chatted on the way out, I realized how much I really had been looking forward to the day. There wasn’t going to be any set agenda until we all got there and talked over who would like to teach what subject, so the day ahead was going to be somewhat of a surprise in itself. The events to unfold as they came about. The very prospect of the format-that-wasn’t was exciting!

Once Sir and I got there, we settled in to listen to the introduction and afterwards talked over which ‘classes’ we’d like to attend. We went to a couple before lunchtime. I attended a class for submissives that was incredibly interesting, and we both made new some connections and new friends. Just before lunch was served, Sir left to go to the hotel we’d be staying in to check in, and I made Him a plate and set it aside to ensure that He’d get lunch when He returned. Later on, we attended a class on suspension, taught by some incredibly talented and knowledgable people. Both of us were riveted, and excited to try it out for the first time. Unfortunately, we ran out of time, but one of the ladies said that she would help us do our first suspension later in the evening. We went outside after that, talked with some of the other people, Sir bought some rope from the man giving the class (not just ANY rope, but rope dyed my favorite color), and we left to go to the hotel room for a while.

When we got to the hotel, Sir went outside for a bit to talk to Butterfly while I played with the pretty new rope. When He came back, I asked how she was doing, hugged Him, and following a brief conversation, came the order “Kneel.” I knelt before Him as He unzipped and lowered His shorts to the ground, then put a hand on my head, guiding my mouth to His cock. It didn’t take but a few minutes for the next order. “Stand up.” I rose, and He grabbed what clothing I had on, helping me remove it, then gave the order again, “Kneel.”

As He pulled my head further onto Him, harder and harder, until I was choking on it, literally praying that the very next gag reflex wouldn’t prove too much for my stomach, for a second I remembered how I felt the first time He had done it. I had never experienced anything like that before, ever.

The first time, I had hated it because I had felt that by His not letting me use my ‘talents’ on Him, the way I ‘knew’ I could, that I wasn’t being given the opportunity to please Him, to give Him my best, or worse, that I wasn’t doing it good enough, and to be truthful, it had simply hurt my ego. Notice all the “I”‘s in that sentence?

My thinking on it back then was entirely wrong. I had had to learn to understand that there was no place for my ego here. Part of that understanding came through a couple lessons earlier on. One, that I am not to try and determine what I think might please Him through a filter based on my own thoughts or desires. Two, by thinking I know what will please Him better than He does, it’s essentially telling Him He is wrong for wanting what He wants. Take that a step further and the entire dynamic becomes twisted and reversed, with the sub trying to ‘take charge’. Not submissive at all.

Mind you, that was a while back, this was stuff I’d thought about and figured out some time ago, it wasn’t something new I had started working out. I won’t say that, even when I had finally understood, the revelation had caused an immediate love for the whole choking and gagging bit, but it had made me see it in a whole lot new light.

That however He chooses to use me is the way that pleases Him best, and it may or may not have anything to do with whether it’s something I may or may not be ‘good at’ or whether or not it’s just His way of demonstrating His control, or even whether it’s just a complete whim of His at the moment with no meaning whatsoever, but either way, submitting to His wishes IS what pleases Him. Obviously I can’t speak for Him as to why He chooses to do this in this particular way, but I do know that it has had the effect of breaking down my pride of such things and fostering in me some sense of humility that I never had before Him.

I know it may seem that ALL that is a lot to be thinking about while sucking your Sir’s cock (which I absolutely love to do, by the way) but believe me, it was just a very, very brief moment that the remembering of the thoughts entered my mind. It only SEEMS like a lot because I had to explain the back story of the understanding part of it here, since I hadn’t written about it before.

A while later we returned to GRUE, and I got to experience my first ever suspension. It was incredible, to say the least, even though parts of it were painful, and there was a point that I finally had to ask to be taken down because I was experiencing a light-headedness that threatened to make me pass out. I felt like I’d been up a few mere moments and was a bit concerned that it’d been disappointing, but everyone said I’d done so well and been up quite a while, especially good for someone who was doing it for the first time. The most important thing, though, was Sir was proud of me, and we were happy that we’d had the chance to experience it together.

We went outside and chatted with the others for a while, I got to experience fire poi up close and personal, and then Sir decided that we were going to find a place to play. We went out to His truck and brought in all the gear, looked around for a place, got permission to do a few things, and then ended up in the ‘medical room’. He had found a spanking bench in one of the rooms and with the help of another man at the event, carried it in there and sat it a little ways from the exam table. The spanking bench was definitely interesting, and I ended up anal hooked and trussed up by my hair, while Sir teased me and took some definitely interesting pictures.

After that, He moved me. To note, while neither of us are into the ‘medical play’ aspect of kink, trust me, I will never look at an exam table the same way again. Sir utilized one of His favorite ties and roped me to the table, feet together, legs spread and wide apart, arms tied overhead, and proceeded to alternate between His fuck-saw and my vibrator.

At first I was slightly self-conscious, not a lot, but just a bit… Sometimes it’s a little hard to let go and orgasm when you know you’re being watched, but it didn’t take too terribly long for my body to completely override my brain. There is a point where you just can not hold back even if you wanted to, when the sensation is all that you know, all that is, and it’s like floating in space, rocketed on wave after wave, tumbling end over end, weightless. That is what this was like. I lost count of the orgasms, lost track of time, don’t know how many times He switched between one implement and the other, and according to Him I even completely spaced out at one point. Two things I do remember clearly, though I don’t remember which came first. He either slapped me and kissed me, or kissed me and then slapped me, but I remember the jolt, the explosion in my body, and the kiss. Most of all, I remember that kiss. It brought me back from wherever I was floating and rooted me to the spot, grounded me to Him, centered me, and in that blissful orgasmic moment, He was in the explosion WITH me, not outside of me. I can’t think of any other way to explain it.

When it was over, I felt high, unsteady on my feet, almost incoherent. Like a piece of fine crystal dipped in chocolate, fragile to the touch, but sweet and sensuous. All I wanted to do was cuddle up under a blanket with Him, put my head on His shoulder and fall into a blissful sleep. Getting everything picked up and moving outside, all of that is a kind of blur. I remember that He took care of everything while I was recovering, that a lady had come in to talk to us, and that she helped me down the stairs while Sir carried our gear out of the room. I remember sitting on the porch in the dark, listening to others talk as I sat with Him and He had His cigar. And even later that night, or actually early morning, we ended up back at the hotel, and as we laid down to sleep, we found our second wind. I rode him until we both decided, exhausted, to rest.

It wasn’t until the next morning, stretching out beside each other, lazily enjoying a slow waking and talking over the previous day’s events, that He mentioned how often I had referred to Him as Sir, without being prompted, and wondered if being around others who shared the dynamic had helped me become more comfortable with it. It definitely had. It wasn’t that I had had a hard time with naming Him that, on the contrary, it was what I always called Him in my mind, in my writing, when I spoke to others, and had done all of that for quite awhile, but the out loud part directly to Him had still taken some getting used to. It loved that it came so much easier now and that made me smile all the more.

I’ve always been a sentimental person. My attachment to certain items was never materialistic, it didn’t matter if the thing held any monetary value at all, it was the memory or intention that lay at the heart of how I came to have the object. But more than that, items with real symbolic significance have were always among my most special treasures.

I remember when my very first real boyfriend gave me a necklace and, though it may have held little value to anyone else, it was precious to me as a physical manifestation of how much he cared for me. It gained a symbolic meaning, however, when he placed it around my neck and did up the clasp. Somewhere inside me, that action became part of our relationship, an extension of the intangible into the world of reality. That was so very real to me that I found myself unable to take the necklace off myself, as if by doing so I would be breaking some tenuous thread that bound us together in the here and now. Back then I had sometimes tried to tell myself I was being silly, that there was nothing magical in the fact that he had done up the clasp instead of having done it myself, that the real meaning was in the simple fact that he thought enough of me to spend time finding a gift and then giving it to me, but I never was able to shake the initial deeper meaning I had given to the action. As a result, I never took it off even a single time while we were dating, no matter how badly I might have wanted to wear something else temporarily, say to match an outfit or change to a necklace/earring set. Eventually, of course, we broke up, and I removed the necklace myself, the magic string having already broken, but then, doing so became part of my saying goodbye to the relationship and to him.

Throughout the years, I’ve felt that way about other objects that have been placed on my body by various people. Sometimes it was jewelry, sometimes it was something pinned or tied to an item of clothing, sometimes it was a mark that was left by a passionate moment, each thing having a very deep significance that resonated to me as being much more than a simple reminder of the person or intent, but becoming part of that connection itself.

Recently, Sir did something that brought these memories to mind and made me realize just how important symbolism has been in my life and caused me to reflect on the way I feel about those items once they are gone, or even what the act of removing them or how they are removed means to me.

Sir decided that he wanted to make His own rope, so with some helpful tips from a friend, He spent a lot of time finding and purchasing the materials, creating the necessary strands, and twisting them together to form His first handmade coils. Then He took a length that He had made and dyed it red..for me.

When He told me that He’d made a rope for me, my eyes went all watery and it touched me very deeply. The thought, time and effort that He put into making it made it so very special, it still makes me smile just to think of it.

As it happened, I had another trip out of town coming up, and the night before I left I got to see Him. We sat together on the floor, face to face, and with rope in hand He reached out and took my ankle, tied the end around and knotted it. As I waited for the next loop to go around another part of my body, He reached out and grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the rope close to the knot, an act which I certainly had not been expecting.

He gave it to me as a visible reminder both to think of Him while I was gone and to know that He’d be thinking of me too. The thing is, it didn’t remind me to think of Him more often, I think of Him almost constantly anyway. It made me think of Him each time in a different way.

Rather than just wondering about what He might be doing at a particular moment, or struggling with being anxious when I felt a need to talk to Him (and literally couldn’t because where I went, I was out of range of both cell and Internet), it gave me a sense of peace, as though He was right there with me, His hand upon my skin. That magical invisible cord had materialized into a very physical presence when He placed it on me, and I felt even closer to Him than I had before.

Almost a week later, and it remains there. I not only don’t want to take it off, I couldn’t even if I did. Call it superstition or symbolism or just plain imagination, but that small length of rope, rope that He made with His own hands, that He made just for me, is a part of Him in my mind. I could no sooner cut if off than I could cut His hand from His body.

I realize that one day it will begin to fray, and eventually it would become worn enough that it might fall off of its own accord, and I know, too, that that would make me sad. So today I asked Him “If it eventually falls off, may I have a new one?” He smiled and replied “Absolutely.”

I won’t let it get to that point, though. When it becomes worn, I will ask Him to cut it and replace it with a new one, because wrapped in this symbolism I’ve attached to it, is also the belief that as long as He is the one to remove it, the magic won’t be cut, it’ll simply bend and stretch out of the way until it can wrap itself around something else from Him.

And the old one, this first piece He gave me, will go into my box of treasures to stay.

Started over my journey, started over in new relationships, erased and started over this piece…it’s all been a series of starting over, and you’ve asked me to tell you ‘why’.

Specifically ‘Why do I want to submit to you’. I know I asked you which side of the question you meant to put the emphasis on, and you answered that you just wanted it to be personal, to get more in my head.

Well, very recently something happened between us that made me realize that my desire to submit to you is not just in my head, it’s reached a deeper place. So tonight I write this for you, not from my head, but from my heart.

I know that when we first talked to each other, I told you that I knew I was in that place people call sub-frenzy and had been there for some time. I had lost my first Dom, without knowing what had happened or why, he just began fading out of my world one day, and never fully came back. I wanted and needed to have that dynamic in my life again, ached for it, but I wasn’t going to settle for just anyone.

The last one, up until that point in my life, was the strongest man I’d ever known. Confident and self assured, compassionate but firm, gentle when needed and forceful when wanted, understanding and loving but strict, an incredibly balanced person emotionally, mentally and physically. He was the only man I’d known in my entire life whose desire and appreciation for me was something I never felt the need to question, it was never just words…I felt it, it radiated off him and touched me in ways I can’t describe. I trusted him implicitly, told him my deepest desires and secrets, shared every part of me, good, bad and otherwise, and in the end, I loved him. He had this uncanny ability to show me who I was in his eyes, which made me desperately want to be all I could be for him, to grow and blossom and change so that I could give him what I felt he deserved, nothing but the very best me that I could be. That was before he checked out.

It took me a long time to realize later on that something had broken, and an even longer time to admit that the trust I’d had in him had been replaced by doubts and insecurities because he had emotionally abandoned me. That the more I tried to reestablish communication, the more he left me hanging, the more I began pulling away, the more he backed away, until there was nothing left but an open wound that would take a long time to heal.

After a long period of grieving, I began to realize that I had to let go of what we had, and begin the search for a new experience, a new relationship in which to grow into. I can’t say that I’ve ever fully let go, I don’t think anyone ever does, but I was able to let go enough to try to start living again. I started looking for signs and clues for those special qualities, that strength, in the men that I would talk to, and sometimes even specifically sought out those who called themselves ‘Dom’ to talk to them and see if our goals, thoughts, and ideas could possibly be a match.

Each one I talked to wasn’t right. There was no connection, no spark, no fit. And then, I got a message from you when I least expected it, when I had all but given up looking. When I stopped being actively on the hunt, and placed a few key words in a profile that was meant only to give a little insight into me to someone who might read it.

That first day we talked I was immediately at ease, intrigued by your intelligence and charmed by your humor. We talked to each other so easily, and I remember thinking, as things unfolded, that those amazing qualities I had so admired in the other, you also possessed.

Don’t get me wrong, the two of you are not alike, and I don’t try to compare you, but you do share a lot of traits that are extremely important to me, many of which are listed above. Those are the things that initially made me want to see where this could go.

I found myself rushing to see what you’d replied, laughing out loud at your wit, smiling easily as we talked, and more comfortable than I had been with anyone since him. There were things that stood out to me that may not mean much to anyone else, but they were like little green flags going up as if to say “All is clear and safe, keep going’. As we got to know each other, with every word you were inspiring me to trust you.

Now, there are so many different experiences we’ve shared, but there are specific ones that come to mind when I think of this question…why do I want to submit to you..and though it may be unusual to someone else, for me, not a single one of them is about sex or the sessions we’ve had. It is not because you like to tie me up, or because you have fun toys to play with, or because you’ve already given me a bunch of sexual ‘firsts’ to remember…..those things are just the fun.

It is because of the way you put your hand on my head and stroke my hair when I sit at your feet and wrap my arms around your leg.

It is because of the look in your eyes when you put your hand around my throat and raise my head so I’m looking at you.

It is because of the way you place your hand on my arm or the back of my neck when we’re in a crowd of people and then angle your body towards me in that way that clearly tells everyone who looks our way ‘she’s mine’.

It is because of the way you so quickly and easily made yourself my anchor, the person who’s touch or look can both excite me and calm me in an instant.

It is because of that connection we share, the one that makes me want to talk to you, to be near you, sometimes just to share the same space, that intangible feeling of safety that made me reach out for you and want to be in your arms when I was crying, and makes me smile when the hurt has passed.

It is because of the way the whole world disappears when that connection fires, and in that moment, I want to give you everything I am.

It is because of the way we fall so easily in and out of the dynamics we all share, and how they blend so perfectly together.

It is because of way I feel when we go out together, and even though you may be all the way across the building, I feel you there, like there’s an invisible string that binds me to you even at a distance, and it makes me smile.

It is because of the care you take to let me know I’m special to you, like finding that beautiful picture of my surrender place and making that quoted image for me, or how you not only learned to make your own rope, you made one just for me and dyed it my favorite color.

It is because of the way you pulled me back against you while you bound me, your breath on my neck as you concentrated on the ties, how you pulled it taught against my skin, and how your energy flowed through the material as though you were touching every part of me at once. We were in sync on so many levels, and that feeling is amazing.

It is because you inspire me to want to give you the best of me, and when I fail, how the knowing I’ve disappointed you stings far deeper than the cane ever will.

It is because…for only the second time in my life, I’ve met a man who I believe in.

It may have taken days to get the words right, to figure out how to say it in its expanded form, but what it all boils down to is this:

It is because I want to. I didn’t make this about why I want to submit because I don’t want to submit to anyone, I want to submit to you. I don’t want to be a sub, I want be your sub.

I have told you before how thankful and blessed I feel that you chose me. Now I know it’s equally as important that you know, feel, and believe that you are not just a Dom-sized peg to fit into a sub-sized hole…. I chose you right back. I promise I’ll do my best to make sure you do.

“Just two pictures of you. Try to impress me. I like when you try to impress me. Oh, and remember…you know how I feel about seeing you naked.”

Brain was instantly awake, and went into questioning mode faster than I could blink, poking at me with her fluttery hands and shooting off question after question without pause.

Does he want candid ‘Look what I’m standing next to’ type shots?
Does he want to see what outfit I wore that day?
Should I do my hair differently so there is something out of the ordinary in the picture?
Does he want a full face and body shot, or does the picture just need to contain a piece of me?
Does just a piece of me in it qualify as ‘me’?
Does he want me clothed or naked in all of them or one of each?
What would he like me to be ‘doing’ in the picture?
Does he want them G, R or X rated?
What if nothing at all interesting happens on the trip to take picture of?
What about…..

I sat there quietly, listening to her as the questions piled up, and the noise she was making crowded out everything else until it was just a low thrum in my head.

For a person that thrives on deep communication, analyzing and trying to understand all the parts of a whole, who’s submission is driven by an intense desire to please, this makes me want to scream because I don’t know exactly what He wants. Without knowing exactly what He wants, there’s a fifty-fifty chance of failure. In my mind, it’s a ‘close your eyes, shoot, and hope you hit the target’ exercise. I like laser beams, no guesswork necessary.

Add to the above, my entire career centers around the ability to finely tune and customize any and every possible scenario to a customer’s specific needs. I spend time with them, listen to them, support them, encourage them, help them…all with the specific goal of finding out exactly what they want in order for our company to be positioned in the best possible way to give it to them in exactly the way they want it.

One of the reasons I’m successful at my job is that there are millions of little facts carefully tucked away in folders in my head, each clearly labeled and organized by company and contact, and I draw upon that information when needed to be of the best possible service to that I am capable of. Those skills translate over into my home life, taking care of kids and family, they all have files too. But it doesn’t work with Him and it drives me nuts.

So if all I desire is to please Him, then why does this type of task drive me crazy? Taking two pictures of yourself is easy, right? Right? Sure, if all you’re going to do is post them on Facebook and it doesn’t really matter one way or another if anyone else likes them or not. But when the receiver is the one person you want most to impress, to please, to make happy, the not knowing of the details stresses you out and gives you a headache. Well, maybe not for you, but it does for me.

That’s because His file is practically empty in the ‘Me’ category. It’s more like one of those accordion organizers with labeled pockets that say:

Beautiful
Sexy
Smart

I know that’s how He says He sees me… But what is missing for Brain is the why. Those are big, general definitions. It’s the little detailed facts that accumulate here and there that are what we women use to entice and please the man over and over again. It’s the knowing of exactly which dress in your wardrobe makes him want to throw you down on the floor and forget about that party, or the specific look from across a room that he’s told you makes him feel wanted. Need more examples?

* While walking down the street, a pretty girl in a gorgeous outfit walks by and he says “Damn, you’d look good in that’.” You look, take a quick snapshot of the outfit in your head, and file it.
* Watching porn together, and he says “Oh my god, that’s hot.” Your mind catalogues the move or position happening on the screen, and you file it.
* Standing outside, the wind blows your hair into your face and he says “I love it when your hair covers your eye like that.” Filed.
* Of all the pictures he has of you, he likes this one the best because… You take note of the reason and file it.
* Each and every time he says “I like it when you….”, you file it.
* When you’ve curled your hair and spent extra time getting it just so, and he says “That’s stunning. You should do that more often.” Noted and filed.

When someone tells me they want something and leave it open-ended, it makes me feel uncertain and stressed. How can I give them what they want if I don’t know what they want??

Person A: I want ice cream.
Person B: I’d be glad to pick up some for you. What kind?
Person A: I dont care, whatever.
Person B: You cant just want ice cream. Ice cream is textured and flavored. There is no ‘ice cream flavored’ ice cream. Do you have a favorite brand? What flavor do you want?
Person A: It really doesn’t matter, I’ll eat whatever you bring. I just want ice cream.
Person B: There are hundreds of flavors in hundreds of brands! For gods sake just TELL me what KIND you want!

Sigh.

See, I know what He was trying to tell me. He just wants ice cream (me) and it doesn’t matter the brand or flavor (pose, clothing, or lack thereof, or where I’m standing, or what I’m doing).

My task from Him was to take two pictures a day to please Him.

My lesson for the weekend from myself: Learn how to just be ice cream.